Trinket
by swastini
Summary: Time flies, doesn’t it? “I will not tell, my trinket, but you will know.” SasuxSaku oneshot with possible sequel


Trinket 

_Time flies, doesn't it?_

Once, you see, the cherry blossom was just that, a flower that could be crushed with one fell swoop of the hand; pink petals broken and scattered across the battlefield.

So you left her aside didn't you, leaving her to play and cavort and frolic like the useless little creature she was, because you had more important things to do than be entranced by dismal pink hair and appalling green eyes. Protection came to you naturally – she was your teammate after all – and no emotion other than sadistic joy came from ripping the arms of the Sound nin who had even dared to touch her nauseatingly beautiful porcelain skin. Vengeance was your goal, not to be attained by distractions and love; a feeling that did not exist or make anything of your life. And you left.

She, of course, tried to stop you, a cherry blossom teetering over the edge of a bloody black waterfall, slipping closer into a darkness she would surely die in. A hit to a pressure point let her sink into the crystal blue water she was meant to belong in as you fled, a coward in the night with parting words of "Arigato"; the other one chased you later, but he was no match for you: the incredible Uchiha, rookie of the year, skilled and hardened by hate and contempt. You can see now that you were weak. Putting a kunai through his heart would have ended many problems, but started several others. How could you ever be accepted back into Konoha if he had died?

How could you ever be accepted back into her arms?

When you met again, things were different and everything had changed. The cherry blossom was still a cherry blossom, but so much more stunning; carved of ruby, encrusted with emeralds, and emblazoned with diamonds. The most wondrous being you had ever seen, you concluded, she shone amongst all others with her beauty and strength. Oh, her strength! To feel her clenched fist brush against your cheek with the force that could shatter a gargantuan boulder was more exhilarating and arousing than anything you had ever felt before. Yet as her eyes softened and her voice became hushed, the disdain rushed back and filled your veins.

"Come back to us, Sasuke-kun."

You could not oblige.

That was not the last of your meetings, and slowly you realize it is all the same all the time: her feral rages shot desire up your spine and excited you to no end, and later as the anger ebbed away and love returned, you would leave, disappointed with the irksome ending. This goes on for a while (two years, if anyone is counting) before you dream of a kunai positioned up against your neck held by the hand of an innocent flower. And soon you seek her out, because her ferocity invigorates you so; you are addicted to it like a drug, because you live, breath, _exist_ on fury and you want her to as well. She is no longer a blossom to hide in your shriveled heart, but a priceless trinket to wear around your blood stained wrist: if only she could be valuable all the time……

You find a solution.

The night is dark when you enter the village, and a red sun peeks above the Hokage tower by the time you are done slaughtering them all. The streets are painted crimson as you slash and hack everything in your way into lifeless pieces, though you spare a few, the ramen man and his daughter for instance; only the shinobi of Konohagakure sleep peacefully, with only one exception. It is foolish, as you know, to not expect at least one person to notice that you are massacring civilians – no ninja, since that would be far too cruel, even for him – only you don't know it will be her, the flower herself, who witnesses his sin. She is climbing down the stairs for a cup of water when she sees you, slicing her mother's head off, and she doesn't scream, shout, or weep in fear. A hidden shuriken whizzes past his ear and embeds itself halfway through the wooden pillar behind him.

"What have you done?" She comes at you faster than you would have thought she could, and you lock gazes. "Why!"

"All…" Flesh collides with flesh.

"For…" She leaps forward, slamming her knuckles into the ground, inches away for the still-warm corpse of her father.

"You!" Your sword slices her arm and the poison soon takes effect; she falls to the floor and you pick her up, draping her on your back like a piece of luggage, while she lingers between slumber and consciousness. As the first person awakens (you are pleased beyond belief to see the person's blue eyes and blonde, and hear his annoying loud voice) and announces the villages misfortune and loss to his fellow shinobi, you slip away with her like the snake you are.

"Where are we going?"

You are surprised she can still talk.

"I will not tell, my trinket, but you will know."

_They tell us of the murderer Uchiha Sasuke, who in one night killed all non-shinobi of Konoha, and his kidnapped partner, or more rather possession, Haruno Sakura, who would share with him a love-hate relationship that fascinated and entranced many. But that, I'm afraid, is a story for another day. _

End


End file.
